


Survivor's Guilt

by tetsubinatu



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Play, Butt Plugs, Cardigans, Cross-Generation Relationship, Crossdressing, Depression, Facials, Masturbation, Multi, Oral Sex, Remus-centric - Freeform, Roleplay, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2008-05-01
Updated: 2008-05-10
Packaged: 2018-01-11 19:44:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1177149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tetsubinatu/pseuds/tetsubinatu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus survived the Second Voldemort War but he has nothing to live for. Having lots of sex might help that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Started on Pervy Werewolf as part of their Lusty Month of May. Each section was supposed to contain a kink. Currently unfinished and subject to revision without notice!

The endless days press down heavily on Remus. The war is over, and against all odds and expectations he - the great survivor - survived again. This time he even has something to live for. Tonks may have died, and Teddy... well, he doesn’t want to think about how he lost Teddy... but he has Harry and his friends, all loving and needing him as he has not been loved and needed in twenty years.

But the days press down and Remus cannot sleep, and yet he cannot wake; cannot rouse himself from this dreaming wakefulness into action or caring, nor deepen his languid dozing into healthy slumbers. He is ... caught... in this half-life and he thinks he might be going mad, but he cannot seem to make himself care. He is desperate, and yet his desperation does not impel him to action.

It might be easier if Grimmauld Place were the hub it had been during the war, but the Weasleys stay at the Burrow now, a cluster glued firmly in place by tragedy. Percy hovers on the rim, still unsure, but Molly is fierce in her determination to pull him in closer. 

Remus hasn’t seen George in weeks, maybe months. Sometimes Ron comes with Harry, or Bill. Remus isn’t quite sure why Bill comes. It is too much trouble to ask. There is always food. Kreacher organises it, he thinks. It isn’t fancy - bread from which he tears large chunks, cheese and cold meats. Soup sometimes. Sometimes he fancies that the food sits on the table a long time before he remembers to go and eat, but it is always fresh.

Sometimes he reads, but the words drift through his head in search of an anchor and drift out again. He doesn’t remember what he reads, but it is better than the days he just sits and stares at the grubby walls, watching spiderwebs drift in the cornices.

Hermione came today, her quick footsteps jarring him out of the accustomed pattern of his days. He agreed with everything she said, shared the tea that Kreacher provided, and eventually she went away again. He thinks she was talking about going to Cambridge, but he never really picked up why. He must have drifted away during that part of the discussion.

Remus turns again in his foetid, rumpled bed, roused a little from inertia by the visit, despite his lack of interest at the time. His knuckles brush against his limp cock. Perhaps... He considers. A wank is a time-honoured way to find sleep. He strokes himself, but cannot rouse any interest, and so he searches for a good fantasy. Marianne from Sense and Sensibility springs to mind. He remembers a close-up from the movie of her golden curls and full red lips; imagines her pressing up against him, dropping to her knees and looking up him with awestruck eyes before sucking him into those gorgeous lips. “Oh sir! You are so big! *slurp*” 

His lips twist into self-mockery, but then his face relaxes as he lets himself drift deeper into the imaginary world where his hand is the soft, wet, willing mouth of a gorgeous woman. He has to work at it, but finally he comes, scourgifies briefly, and slips willingly into hard-won sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Voyeurism

Since the first night that Remus wanked to Marianne’s golden curls he has felt a little less adrift. Normally he uses just five rooms in all of the echoing vastness of Grimmauld Place: bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, library and, of course, the gothic dripping dankness of the cellar at full moon. Kreacher can deal with everything else. This time, however, when he wakes in the middle of the night to hear noises coming from Harry’s old room he finds himself going to investigate.

The door is only ajar a sliver, but just as Remus reaches the beam of light marking the doorway he recognises the sounds that woke him and stops dead. Through the narrow opening come the slaps and grunts of enthusiastic, real sex. Remus can’t help his eyes drifting automatically to focus on the lit room, but he knows perfectly well that shifting to get a better view means that he can no longer claim innocence if caught. He pauses, eyeing the slow slide of entwined legs that is all he can see from Innocence, but then he recognises the voices and tiptoes across into Voyeurism.

From his new position he can see Harry’s bare buttocks driving between Hermione’s spread knees. From her enthusiasm he imagines that a fair amount of this rendezvous has already taken place; Tonks never sounded quite as wanton until after her first orgasm, and Remus places this keening grunt as immediately post-climax when the dying embers are easily re-ignited by vigorous penetration. He represses an urge to snigger at his didactic exposition. Merlin, it has been far too long since he was in Harry’s position, cock buried in an enthusiastic, dripping cunt. Jealousy and lust sweep over him, then are suddenly killed by a drenching wave of grief. Tonks, Emmeline, Lily... all the girls he fucked and loved from youth to middle-age - and most of the boys too - are dead.

Harry’s buttocks jerk and clutch unevenly as his own orgasm hits and during the heavy breathing and soft murmurs that follow Remus glides softly away, tears streaming silently down his face to pool soggily in his collar.

He sits in his bedroom gasping with the sobs he has refused to let out, pillow stuffed over his mouth to muffle the noise because he doesn’t have the breath or control for a silencing charm.

When he has recovered himself and is once again calm, asexual Professor Lupin, he goes to wait in the kitchen, knowing that the lovers will have to floo out from there. The front door, long unused even after Mrs Black’s portrait was finally removed, has jammed solid from the damp, and could never have been opened stealthily. The back door leads only to the garden, a dead end. Harry and Hermione must have flooed in, and Remus knows that he must rejoin the world long enough to find out why they are conducting secret trysts in Grimmauld Place in the middle of the night.

He may not have Tonks or Teddy or Sirius to live for, but he knows his duty to Harry.


	3. Cross-gen

Remus isn’t quite sure what he expected to hear, but this wasn’t it. He understood the concept of ‘friends with benefits’ but it seemed that while he had been lost in his own private hell Hermione had broken up with Ron, Harry with Ginny, then Harry with Neville and Harry with Oliver and Hermione with Neville and Hermione with George (which was probably good news for George, Remus dimly realised, if he’d been getting his end in a bit). At that point Harry and Hermione had sworn off ‘relationships’ because they all ended badly and had decided to just have sex and be friends with each other pending further developments. At some point during all this kerfuffle Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville had taken their NEWTs, and even done quite well on them.

Remus nodded vaguely and muttered something about “glad that’s all cleared up then”. Hermione then made some tea, which unfortunately woke up Kreacher, who decided to be offended.

To placate him, and since it was nearly light anyway, they all ate a fine elf-made breakfast and praised the cook lavishly before Harry went off to quiddich practice, while Hermione and Remus lingered over the croissants.

The other thing that Remus appeared to have missed was that at some point he has agreed to become an undergraduate at Cambridge University - yes the Muggle one. He must have nodded and said yes (possibly more than once) because Hermione has sorted out all the paperwork for him as well as for herself, Neville, George, Ron and Harry. Remus blinks rapidly at this information. They are all going to be doing education degrees, Hermione in History, Ron and Harry in Geography, Neville in Biology, George in Chemistry and Remus in Classics. 

Hermione has obtained copies of everyone’s OWLs and, where relevant, NEWTs, had the transcripts adapted to Muggle requirements according to the pro forma recommended by the Ministry of Magic, submitted them to Cambridge and they have all been accepted, although Hermione admits that she might have had to _tweak_ Ron and George’s transcripts just a little. She has arranged shared digs for them all in a run-down house on the edge of town and assures him that Molly is thrilled that he is going to accompany them “because she doesn’t trust us, even though we are all adults, but then I suppose she has reason.” Remus wonders how much Molly has witnessed of the musical bed game that the younger generation has been playing.

Apropos of which, Hermione leans over and wipes a crumb of croissant off his mouth. “I hope we didn’t upset you, Remus. Harry and I, I mean. We didn’t mean to...”

Remus isn’t sure what they didn’t mean to do, but he makes general deprecating noises anyway. “Might as well enjoy yourselves while you can,” he finishes up.

Hermione frowns. The subsequent exchange somehow leads to Remus flat on his back on his bed (newly freshened with a spell) with Hermione riding him, her small boobs bouncing happily free. As he fingers her to a joyous climax, he is happy to realise that he has not lost the skill which led Lily once, before she gave her heart to James, to call Remus her sex-god. Suprisingly the memory brings no pain, and he smiles as Hermione’s pleasure ignites his own orgasm.

‘So much for calm, asexual Professor Lupin,’ Remus thinks, somewhat later, as he cups a gentle hand around the delectable arse of the young woman napping naked in his arms. For the first time in a long time, he falls asleep with a smile on his face.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oral sex  
> Face-shot

Remus woke to find Hermione peering at him from the end of the bed, where she was sitting naked with a folder of paperwork. “What?” he enquired muzzily.

“Happy and well-shagged looks good on you,” she said, tilting her head to the side as if to examine the proposition more carefully, “although right now I do feel a bit like Molly Weasley.”

“You’re planning to have seven babies with me?”

She poked her tongue out, a flick of pink that shot straight to Remus’ loins. “I am contemplating feeding you up. No-one over the age of sixteen should show quite so many ribs.”

“You’d have a job,” he retorted lazily, staggering blearily out of bed towards a pile of books on the dressing table. Selecting a small green volume from the stack he moved back towards the bed and settled in at Hermione’s back. She leaned into him, snuggling her bottom up to cradle his cock in her crack. He rocked gently against her, getting comfortable, then opened the book to show her an old black and white photograph of a fat man in a loincloth.

“This is the only fat werewolf I’ve ever seen or heard of. Fritz Schultz. He was kept at the Berlin Zoo in the early years of the twentieth century. It’s hard to say if he was fat because he was castrated at the time of his bite - when he was nine - or because he was kept in a cage which measured eight foot by twelve, or because, as a prize exhibit, he was given ample food of good quality.”

Hermione had stopped breathing.

“This was the era when people threw buns to the zoo animals, and it is reported that he was very fond of hazelnut torte, but I suspect it was the castration...”

Hermione took a breath and held up a hand. Remus wished he could see her face, but when she spoke her voice was icy. “I get the point. I know I’ve just had jolly fine sex with a werewolf and a professor twenty years older than me. You can stop now.”

She really was the smartest witch of her age, he had to give her that. He sat very still, waiting for some further indication. He could feel the movement of her ribcage with each breath, and then she leaned her head back onto his left shoulder and lifted his right hand up to cup her right breast. Tentatively, he moved his thumb to rub the nipple, which peaked enthusiastically.

“Did Tonks and Sirius let you get away with that crap?” Hermione asked, swivelling around to face him. He barely had time to shake his head before she diverted her attention from his face to his crotch. Her lips curved into the smile that he knew from other contexts meant trouble, although in this case it apparently meant a blowjob. As she licked and teased each part of his thighs and penis with thorough attention to every sensitive detail he thanked his lucky stars that he was only a matter of an hour or so from his last shagging. When at last she took him fully into her mouth he groaned, and the next few minutes were a rollercoaster of sensation leading directly to...

When she pulled off at the last second it was far too late to stop, and with a muffled shout of release and shock he pumped a full load of cum over her face. She grinned wickedly at him, saying matter-of-factly, “I really do hate the taste, but it’s very good for the skin.” With one finger she began to delicately massage her face, but instead he pushed her onto her back and, holding her wiggling, giggling body still beneath his, licked her face clean.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cross-dressing

Harry was not happy, and he was not shy about letting Hermione know it. When Remus went off to inspect the bathrooms of their new digs (three, because Hermione had tried to share a bathroom with Ron before and wouldn’t wish it on anyone squeamish, which meant that George was sharing with him) Harry let her have both barrels.

“How could you do this to me?” he sulked dramatically, ignoring the cleaning charms with which Hermione was busily scouring the sink and oven. A sponge whisked by a little too close, leaving suds on his nose, but he only narrowed his eyes and ignored them.

“The opportunity just came up. I’d like to have seen you resist it!” she retorted sharply.

“But it’s not fair! I have first dibs and you know it.”

She rolled her eyes, and when Remus came in with an anxious look on his face making it clear that he had caught the tail end of the conversation, she punched Harry surreptitiously in the bicep. He elbowed viciously back.

“I’m so sorry, Harry!” Remus began. “I thought that the arrangement with Hermione was on a casual basis and if I had had any idea...”

Hermione pursed her lips and interrupted, “Harry’s just being childish, Remus. He wanted to sleep with you first.”

Remus sat down heavily in the nearest chair. “That’s... unexpected.” After a heavy pause he looked at Harry warily. “I... I really don’t think I could do that Harry.”

“But why not?” Harry burst out impetuously. “I’m the same age as Hermione, and I know you like men.”

Remus frowned. “You’re Prongs’ and Lily’s baby, Harry! I was in the waiting room when you were born. I held you when you were 20 minutes old; I thought I was going to drop you, but it was Sirius who did that.”

“Sirius dropped me?”

“Explains a few things,” Hermione muttered.

“Well but never mind that! I’m not a baby now.”

Remus looked a little guilty but remained firm. “I slept with your mother...”

Hermione cocked her head interestedly, watching Harry’s face run through shock, suspicion, jealousy and back to suspicion.

“Um... and Dad?”

“No. He was irredeemably straight. Had to have been to resist Sirius, really.” Looking around at the the two interested faces he added, “Sirius took it as a personal affront, I think. He always boasted that he could have anyone, male or female, at Hogwarts and here his best friend wouldn’t put out!”

Hermione pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and gestured to Harry to take the one on the other side. “So what did he do?” she asked.

“Well, the climax was probably when he borrowed Hetty Sansworth’s underwear. He must have been getting a bit desperate by that stage, I suppose. Hetty came from the same social milieu as Justin Finch-Fletchly - you know, old Muggle money and land.” 

He smiled reminiscently. “She had the most beautiful underwear. Soft satin and lace.” One finger reached out to caress the air as if to touch long-gone lace and silk.

“The set Sirius ‘borrowed’ was cream silk with lace inserts; brassiere, panties and,” his voice hitched slightly at the memory, “a lace suspender-belt with matching stockings. Not only did she have the most gorgeous underwear, but she was a tall, athletic girl and he can’t have needed to adjust the fit too much because he looked stunning. He shaved his legs and threatened Peter and me with all sorts of dire consequences if we interrupted.”

Hermione grinned, “So how do you know all this then?”

“Oh I took James’ cloak and Peter turned into a rat, and we both hid under the bed with the best view - Peter’s. Of course James squeaked and ran away as fast as he could, Peter followed and... well, I reaped the benefits.” A reminiscent smile lit his face. “Sirius wasn’t just furious, but hurt, too. He never really understood why James wouldn’t sleep with him. When he started to rip Hetty’s underwear off I took the cloak off and kissed him, from his lips to his toes, until he felt loved again.”

Remus remembered the slide of silken stockings under his stomach as he tongued Sirius’ navel, Sirius’ swollen cock bobbing enthusiastically under his chest. With every kiss he lavished words of love on Sirius - ‘beautiful’, ‘gorgeous’, ‘unprecedented’ - until Sirius had given up on seducing James and accepted the adoration that Remus offered unstintingly.

Hermione gulped. The look on Remus’ face was too private, too passionate to be meant for them to witness. She glanced over at Harry, who had let one tear slide from the eye she could see. Gently she leaned over and let her tongue blot it from his cheek. The smile he conjoured up for her broke her heart.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Role-play  
> Cardigan ;)

Harry sat up in bed. “Sirius slept with my mother!”

Hermione sighed and rolled over to face him. “No. Remus slept with her; that’s what he said.”

“Yeah, but he said Sirius slept with everyone - except my Dad - so that must mean he slept with my mother.”

Hermione just wished that Harry would calm down. Normally a bout of athletic sex sent him right off to sleep for the night, for which his friends were all grateful. Ron had even been known to beg Hermione to ask Ginny to come and visit when Harry’s late-night wanderings had been going on long enough to affect his volatile moods. Tonight she couldn’t get him to concentrate on anything but his woes long enough to have the sex which would let him sleep.

“He didn’t exactly say that, Harry. He said that Sirius boasted that he could have had sex with everyone, except James. There’s no evidence that he was interested in your mother.”

“She had sex with Remus, didn’t she?”

Hermione had had enough. For the past week, as they had all finally moved into the Cambridge house, every time they were alone Harry had reverted to the same theme, hashing over Remus’ revelations in minute detail. 

“That doesn’t even make sense, Harry! What is your problem anyway? Just because Remus won’t sleep with you...”

Harry threw the covers back and stomped from the room without a backward glance. Instead of kicking down the stairs to his own room as she had expected, Hermione heard him throw open Remus’ door on the landing opposite hers. Grumpily she followed him out of her bedroom only to find a naked Neville blocking Remus’ doorway. Harry stared from her back to Neville with blatant frustration and then apparated away with a crack that seemed to fully express his fury.

Neville blushed. “Hi Hermione.” he said weakly, placing a hand in front of his genitals. Behind him Remus banged his head against the nearest wall.

“Don’t mind me,” Hermione said snippily. “I’ve seen it all before, after all.”

Neville’s eyes widened and he swivelled in the doorway to look at Remus, who waved a hand of acknowledgement and ventured, “Gentlemen don’t tell? Old-fashioned, I suppose.”

Hermione slipped into the bedroom past Neville and he closed the door behind her. Remus was fully dressed in old brown corduroys, white shirt and tie and a ratty brown cardigan that Hermione was sure she remembered from third year. A knowing grin crept across her face.

“Please Professor Lupin,” she begged, putting up her hand eagerly, “Can I play too?”

Remus looked at Neville. Neville bit his lip and looked down. Hermione could see a big fat ‘No’ brimming on his lips.

“Please, Neville!” she begged. “Come on! He’s wearing his cardigan!” Neville’s lips twisted in appreciation and he looked at her with a faint grin as she bobbed up and down eagerly.

“Oh all right,” he muttered, “but you don’t get to be teacher’s pet.”

“You can be teacher’s pet. I promise.” 

They both looked hopefully at Remus who cleared his throat sternly and said “Miss Granger! Not only are you late but you are improperly dressed for this lesson. Kindly disrobe and take a seat next to Mr Longbottom. I am sure his exemplary behaviour should be an inspiration to you all.”

Ooh yes! This was going to be good.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anal play  
> Sex toys

With a wave of his wand, Remus transfigured his bed into a pair of student’s desks with chairs. Hermione finished stripping and sat down primly in her seat, her nipples crinkled up a little at the chill of a cool August night. Beside her Neville was trembling, although whether with anticipation or cold she couldn’t say.

"I believe you have both forgotten your ties? Never mind; I have spares." Remus handed each of them a Gryffindor tie, a little crumpled and wider than the standard issue, which they tied around their necks with the ease of those who had done so every morning of their school lives. Neville's was a little off-centre and Hermione straightened it. Her own dangled neatly between her breasts and tickled her belly uncomfortably.

Another chair became a teacher’s desk, and Neville’s trembling abruptly stilled when Remus reached into a chest of drawers and set a tube of lube beside the quill and ink pot on the desk. Hermione could hear his breathing slow to an even, hypnotic rhythm.

Remus then proceeded to give an absolutely fascinating lecture on anal penetrative sex, making them take detailed notes. As he talked, he strode around the room, and Hermione almost began to feel as if this were a real classroom. Then suddenly he said “Volunteers for demonstration please.”

Hermione raised her hand. That was what she always did, after all, but Neville beat her to the punch.

“Very well, Mr Longbottom and Miss Granger can demonstrate for us. Bend over my desk, Miss Granger, and spread your legs. Wider please.

“Now Mr Longbottom, kindly indicate the perineum - yes, very good - and using the lube provided on my desk illustrate the correct method of manually stretching the anus in preparation for penetration. Is this your first practical experience of this technique? Yes?

“Miss Granger, have you any previous practical experience in these matters? No? Then when Mr Longbottom has completed his practical you may attempt the same upon him.”

Neville’s fingers were clumsy as they fumbled with the tube, only to be foiled as Remus said reproachfully, “Mr Longbottom! You forgot the very first procedure to be undertaken with any form of anal play! Miss Granger?”

“A cleansing spell, sir? You recommended Tergeo Conjugalis or Connubio.”

“Five points to Griffindor, Miss Granger. Proceed, Mr Longbottom.”

Hermione gasped as she felt the scouring effect of Tergeo Conjugalis tingle through her arse. Then Neville’s large finger was circling the pucker of her hole, the warmth of the dripping oil pleasantly arousing until she felt the pressure of his finger attempting to ease into her.

“Miss Granger I believe you were warned to push out at this point, were you not? Please assist Mr Longbottom by doing so.”

“Mr Longbottom. I believe that you can see that this part of the procedure can be quite tricky, especially with a novice. If you were attempting this with a man you would attempt to locate the prostate as quickly as possible, however with a woman it is better to attempt a little distraction - if you could just ease backward a few inches, Miss Granger? In fact distraction can also be useful with a man, in which case it would take the form of a hand on his cock rather than, as in Miss Granger’s case, fingering her clitoris.”

Hermione’s breathing quickened appreciably as Remus guided Neville to finger her with his left hand while stretching her virgin arse with his right. Her back began to curve as she tensed on the tip of the slope to orgasm, at which point Neville’s blunt fingers abruptly withdrew. When the rushing of blood in her ears cleared she found that she had been docked ten points for swearing. 

“I am truly shocked to hear such langage from a prefect, Miss Granger, and in class too!” She bared her teeth at him, but when she attempted to move from her position she received a stinging swat on the left buttock from Remus’ hand. “Stay still Miss Granger! If you are to remain perfectly prepared it would be best if a buttplug were inserted at this point.”

Remus handed Neville, who was clearly as hard as a rock himself, a beautifully carved marble dildo. Hermione groaned as it was slowly inserted. “This really isn’t at all comfortable, Professor!”

“Be patient, Miss Granger. Your turn will come. Good work, Mr Longbottom. Five points. Are you prepared to swap positions with Miss Granger?”

Neville nodded slowly.

“If you are unwilling, Miss Granger can demonstrate upon me.”

Neville shot a possessive glance at Remus and raised his chin. “I’m willing, Professor.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More role-play

Remus’ old clothes were a little loose, which he found unexpected and worrying. Despite his lecture on werewolf physiology to Hermione, he had actually put on weight during his time with Tonks - weight which he had evidently lost in the months following the final battle. 

Loose clothing had its conveniences though, he thought, as he subtly adjusted his stance to keep his erection from rubbing painfully against his trousers. The role-play had been Neville’s idea and he hadn’t actually expected to get a lot out of it himself, but the sight of two naked and willingly submissive lovers dressed in nothing but Sirius’ old ties was more erotic than he had realised it would be. He leaned over Hermione’s shoulder as she gently rotated two fingers in Neville’s arse while stroking his cock at irregular intervals.

“Seek out the prostate, Miss Granger,” he murmured helpfully into her ear, with only the slightest brush of his sleeve against her right nipple as he gestured. Her breathing slipped from its even cadences and he felt a thrill of erotic power. Remembering her evident fondness for his cardigan he allowed its row of fastened buttons to press gently into her back as he reached around her to adjust her grip. “Better?” he teased as he stepped back. Her buttocks clenched convulsively around the flanged base of the butt-plug.

“Yes, sir” she answered dutifully, but with a slight breathlessness, and he suddently realised that in her distraction she was pumping Neville’s cock far too fast.

“Slow down, Miss Granger!” he barked, and with a squeak she dropped Neville’s cock entirely.

Neville groaned.

“You may return to your seat, Miss Granger,” Remus said with a sigh. “Clearly I have asked too much of you. I will continue Mr Longbottom’s preparation myself.”

Remus was surprised to see tears spring to Hermione’s eyes. Could she really be hurt by his words? He just wanted the opportunity to touch Neville himself, and he had thought she might enjoy the opportunity to watch. As she sat down at her ‘desk’ he took the opportunity to tweak one nipple gently and place a light kiss on her pouting lips. “I might even have to _punish_ you later,” he added with a lascivious grin. She smiled back and he was pleased to see that her eyes were no longer bright with tears. He had forgotten how fiercely competitive she could be.

Neville was waiting patiently in position and Remus angled him to give Hermione a better view before inserting one, then swiftly two oiled fingers into his loosened, glistening pucker and feeling for the prostate. His other hand cupped fondly around Neville’s balls, rolling them in their sac - something he already knew Neville enjoyed. Neville moaned quietly, his body flexing with pleasure and then Remus found his prostate. Neville grunted and pushed back into the invading hand and Remus took the opportunity to insert a third finger.

“Did you see his reaction when I found his prostate, Miss Granger?”

She nodded demurely, curls bouncing slightly faster than her breasts could follow. “Yes, sir.”

“May I introduce Miss Granger to your prostate, Mr Longbottom?”

Neville’s reply was unsteady but assured, “Yes, sir.”

Remus guided two of Hermione’s smaller fingers in beside his larger one, leading them to brush gently over the bump. As their twined hands invaded his arse, Neville shuddered and arched.

“Don’t you dare come, Mr Longbottom,” Remus snapped in his iciest voice, reaching swiftly to encircle Neville’s cock with a constricting grip. 

“No, sir. Thankyou, sir.”

Remus accioed the second butt-plug he had created and inserted it deftly as Hermione’s fingers withdrew. Before releasing his fingers from Neville’s cock he took the precaution of replacing their pressure with a spell to perform the same function.

“Lovely,” he said, stepping back with satisfaction and looking at his ‘class’. With their flushed cheeks and the Gryffindor ties serving merely to accentuate their essential nakedness they were a picture of youthful sexuality. Remus felt himself poised between satisfaction at the sight of all this beauty at his beck and call and feeling like a dirty old man. The utter honesty of their responses to him decided him not to sully the moment with a feeling that he knew they would both utterly repudiate.

“Well come along then! We have a lot of ground to cover today,” he said cheerfully.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More role play and some cardigan-love!

“As the topic at hand is anal penetration,” Remus began,”it would seem only logical to follow the topic to its logical conclusion, namely anal intercourse. As you are aware, this is experienced quite differently by male and female participants, and...”

A loud crack came from Harry’s room below, followed by a crash and a number of thumps. A hellish scream was cut off suddenly.

Neville jumped and Remus started for the doors, only to be prevented by Hermione’s hand on his arm. “Let me,” she said, the light in her eyes both protective and furious.

“He screamed,” Neville pointed out dubiously.

“Trust me, he’s come home furious, and hasn’t remembered the silencing charm until after he started his tantrum,” she retorted, swiftly donning her sexy nightgown and transforming it into a pink chenille housecoat with a fluffy bunny pocket. 

The door slammed behind her and Neville frowned. “Pink chenille?”

“Molly has one just like it,” Remus informed him. “Either she found it the easiest form to remember in a hurry or she was making a point.” He paused and exchanged a look with Neville. Grins spread over both of their faces as they thought about it.

“He’s in trouble,” Neville informed his co-conspirator, who merely nodded and tilted his head thoughtfully.

“Now where were we, Mr Longbottom?”

Neville suddenly became aware of his near-nakedness again, and of the intent scrutiny of his favourite professor.  
“I think I was about to give you a blow-job,” he volunteered meekly, “But I’ll need to remove your trousers first.”

Remus blinked. “Oh. Well, yes... that sounds... Proceed as you see fit, Mr Longbottom.”

Neville dropped to his knees and crawled over to the brown corduroy trousers. Carefully he untied each brown shoelace and lifted each foot to remove the well-polished shoe and sock. He straightened and smiled up at Remus’ surprised face before running a possessive hand over Remus’ eye-level crotch and undoing the zip. Now this was something he had done before, and he was pretty damn sure he was good at it, too.

* * *

Backed up against the wall, Remus’s back was cold, but his cock was bathed in the warmth of Neville’s mouth. As Neville craned closer, taking the full length of cock down his throat Remus felt his control cracking.

“Oh... Hecate’s balls... Neville! If you want that buttplug to serve a useful purpose this evening you... God... have to stop.. now!”

Neville grinned around his mouthful, but he did stop, and with one regretful slurp he slid his mouth off Remus’ cock. “Can we have the bed back now?” he asked, his voice husky. Remus twitched at the sound of it, then nodded and collected his dignity enough to reach for his wand and transfigure the desk back to a bed.

The bed thus revealed was not the dingy single of his Grimmauld Place days, but a brand new queen-size bed from IKEA. Neville had actually helped Remus put it together only yesterday, which went some way to explaining the events of this evening. Neville tugged Remus over and arranged him on the bed, straddling him and gazing down with pleasure at his former professor.

Remus grinned up at him. “Can I take the clothes off, then?”

Neville tilted his head as if he were considering, but the matter was never in doubt. “Everything but the cardigan.” He leaned back enough to allow Remus to sit up and remove his clothes, then replace the cardigan, unbuttoned, before lying down again.

“Perfect.”

“What is it about the cardigan?” Remus enquired plaintively. He had bought several cardigans for a few pence each from Oxfam because they were cheap, unobtrusively respectable and warm. Why the youngsters had chosen to fetishise this particular garment, he could not imagine.

“Mmmmmm.” Neville pushed warm brown wool aside to nibble at the nipple revealed. “I guess... well, it’s an old man’s garment on a young, fit, attractive man.” He smiled at the blush that spread over Remus’ chest, moving his mouth to tease the other nipple. “It’s warm and comforting, like you. Sort of... unpretentiously reliable...” He smiled up from his task, “..like you... and it makes me want to rip it off and reveal the sexy, uninhibited man underneath the calm, dull, fuzzy, grandpa exterior... Oh yeah!”

Remus flipped them over, “You want sexy, huh?” The cardigan hung askew and Neville knew that this was really what he had wanted to see all along - Remus’ face alive with predatory playfulness. Remus’ gaze was intent on Neville’s face as he stroked one sure hand down Neville’s bound and throbbing cock. “Oh Neville. Hang on for the ride!”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All talk and no action

Ron and George were coming up the stairs from the ground floor as Hermione came down from the top floor. They all met on the landing outside Harry’s and Neville’s rooms.

“Was that Harry or Neville?” Ron gasped. His dressing gown gaped to reveal that he wasn’t wearing a pajama top, and the knowledge that Susan had been over for supper enabled Hermione to guess that he probably wasn’t wearing the bottoms either.

“Harry. Neville’s upstairs,” Hermione retorted shortly. The marble dildo which had been uncomfortable in her arse ten minutes ago was now making things distinctly _interesting_ , especially after hurrying down a couple of flights of stairs. “He’s not in any danger - just pissed off about something.”

Ron nodded, exasperation replacing concern on his face. “You’d think he’d be easier to live with these days, wouldn’t you? Bloody wanker. Do you need any help with him?”

“No. Go back to Susan.” She raised her voice. “I’m sure Harry didn’t MEAN to interrupt your evening!”

The door suddenly opened and Harry leaned out in a cloud of firewhisky fumes and ire. “Piss off you lot. I just tripped over something.” 

He started to close the door, but George was too fast, conjuring a rubber wedge as a doorstopper. 

“Now, now Harrikins. I think you owe us an apology and a firewhisky, don’t you?” he leered.

Harry just scowled and leaned down to remove the doorstopper but as he did so George pulled the door fully open and stepped through with a polite flourish in Hermione’s direction. Hermione grinned and followed.

They both turned to look at Ron, but he was already half-way down the stairs. His voice drifted back to them “For Circe’s sake just keep the noise down, will you, guys!” 

Harry looked after him with an expression of betrayal that Hermione found simultaneously irritating and touching. He closed the door and gazed folornly at the two intruders, one of whom was already pouring firewhisky into three glasses.

“Bottoms up, Harry!” said George.

“I think he’s had quite enough,” Hermione said primly, but there was less venom in her voice than there might have been a few minutes before.

Harry took the proferred glass and shot it down his throat. “Fill ‘er up,” he said, seemingly resigned to his uninvited guests. “Get a drink in you and then just go away, will you.” He sat down abruptly on the edge of his bed, leaving his guests to arrange their own seating. 

Above them, there was a thump and a slow knocking rhythm began. Hermione grimaced and gulped at her firewhisky. “There goes my evening,” she muttered to herself.

George raised an eyebrow inquiringly. “Neville and Remus are upstairs, you said?”

“Yup.”

“You do realise that you might be having a more interesting evening yourself if you weren’t wearing a pink dressing gown with a bunny pocket? Have you been raiding Mum’s wardrobe?”

Hermione grimaced. “Well I _was_ having a lovely threesome with Remus and Neville until My Hero started creating a ruckus.”

“Oi!” protested Harry. “I never asked you to come down here! In fact I seem to remember that I told you to piss off.”

George merely looked disbelieving. “Our Hermione in a threesome with Neville and Remus? Not that it isn’t a lovely thought, but pull the other one, love - it’s got bells on.”

Harry watched Hermione’s face change and edged a little further back on his bed. “Er, George...”

“Well, Little Miss Perfect is not exactly adventurous, is she?”

Harry winced, and reached to save his firewhisky.

“Did you ever think, George Weasley, that maybe you were the unadventurous one in our relationship? ‘Wham, bam, thankyou Hermione’ was not exactly my idea of a good time, you know! And with bloody Harry he’s living in his own world half the time, never mind whether I’m wearing a sexy nightie or a gas mask and waders. I’d wonder if someone hadn’t dropped him on his head if I didn’t already know that Sirius did!”

Harry flinched and even George shifted his chair back a few inches as Hermione stood up.

“For your bloody information, gentlemen, under this dressing gown, which - yes - is patterned after your mother’s, George, because Harry seems to think I exist to trail around after him and pick up his messes - I am wearing nothing but a Griffindor tie and a buttplug. Unfortunately it seems that there’s never a man in the house when you need one.”

Overhead, the slow, steady rocking was beginning to speed up. Hermione took one last enraged gulp of her firewhisky and stalked towards the door. As her hand grasped the door handle, George threw himself on the floor between her and the door. He kissed her feet extravagantly, making her swear and try to pull them away.

“Bellissima! Carissima! Hermione!”

“Hell’s bells! Get.. off me... George!”

“Let me make it up to you! Let Harry make it up to you! Let us both make it up to you! Harry, back me up here, mate!”

“George!”

Harry made a sort of choking noise and both the figures at the door stared at him. Carefully, he put the firewhisky on a sidetable and dropped to the floor, crawling determinedly to Hermione’s feet. “Hermione. Please let George and me make it up to you?”

What was a girl to do?


End file.
